Howl
by ShinigamiMailJeevas
Summary: Take heed of the old book and the lessons of your elders, for when the moon is full a man of good heart may still bow to it's pull. Mello knew of the curse, lived by it. Then came... - Happy valentines...


**Disclaimer**: the lyrics below here fit as the quote from the 'old book' in this fic, but they belong to florence and the machine and i do not own or make money from them.(also, i do not own or make money off of Death Note)

**AN**: So it is once again Valentines day and I have something that I think fits...its about love, how loving someone so much can...well you will see :)

**HOWL**

_[center][i]~Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers  
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters  
A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night  
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright~[/i][/center]_

Those words rattled around Mello's mind his entire childhood, ingrained again and again by the elders of his family. The verse from the old book was to always be remembered, always coveted and always followed. To not heed its warning was to open Pandora's box and unleash fate upon yourself, to whatever it may be.

The blood that ran through the Keehl's veins was cursed, diseased and infectious. It did not skip a generation; it did not pick and choose a carrier. It permeated throughout the entire house and would until the line died out, if it ever did. To sleep with a man or woman would not matter, but to fall in love and be loved in return, and act on those feelings in anything other than a kiss or simple touch would incur wrath. For those who did not regard the warning would be torn apart by their lover.

The only way around it was to kill the one they slept with before the change, because the heart of man could simply not withstand the curse. His grandfather knew it all too well, having nearly lost his life to the woman who loved him too much, so much she tried to devour him. He now stared upon the world with a bitter eye made of glass and upon his chair with wheels.

To forget your blood, was to die.

So it was with that in mind that he found the pleasure of the most intoxicating young man years later, on the eve of his twenty-second birthday. The red haired man could not have been much older or younger than he, and held the deepest green eyes he had ever seen; visible even under the hideous lenses of his orange tinted glasses. Both had a fair amount of drink in them but neither was so inhibited that they could not tell who they were going home with. They kissed fervently in the hallways, hands roaming, pressing and scraping against any skin they could find.

Mello was pinned to the wall, arms above himself and ground into slow and teasingly. His eyes rolled back as he enjoyed the others body against him and let the smooth burn of passion well up inside until he could no longer allow the other to play. They stumbled into his home, apartment door slamming shut behind them.

.

The neighbors complained about the noise the next day, going so far as to ask if his companion was alright. They had heard screams. He smiled and told them not to worry and went about his day.

It was supposed to be another one nighter, a face he would not see or acknowledge as he passed on the streets. But it wasn't. One night became two, and then three until Mello could not tell how long they had been sleeping with one another.

Matt even moved in at one point, though the extent of their existence remained as friends and sexual partners; it was simply easier to wake up in one place and have all of their things for the day than to have to rush about for work and errands. It was practical. Or so Mello told himself.

And kept telling himself that, even as he noticed the kisses turning sweet—planting on his lips outside of sex—the touches becoming caresses until he simply _forgot_. Until one day he found himself murmuring 'I love you, have a good day' as they parted for work. And meaning it with everything he was.

He felt blessed, lucky even, when Matt would return the sentiment. Life with him was everything he had never expected to have, yet was grateful for. Matt was a truly beautiful person, and was all his.

Lying beside Matt at night, Mello caressed his face and could not contain a smile as the sleeping man shifted closer. "I love you," he whispered affectionately and shut his eyes. He could live like this, with Matt, forever.

.

One night as they cleaned off the dinner table with some strong cleaners—abrupt voice shattering sex on a place you eat was never a great idea, especially with the splinter Mello received on his behind—Matt froze in place, holding a hand to his mouth as he coughed.

"Matt, are you alright?" Mello looked up at the hunched over redhead who continued to hack, as though something was stuck in his throat. Matt spit something into his hand before turning to Mello with wide frightened eyes. Blood. There was a large glob of blood centered in the palm. "Is that a tooth?" he whispered, leaning over the table to view.

Matt tried to speak but all that came forth was a low whining moan followed by more coughing. Mello leapt across the table to grab hold of his shoulders, wanting to drag him to the bathroom where the light was brighter, but could not manage it with Matt acting as dead weight. The coughing ceased for a long frightful moment and Mello thought he had stopped breathing. Then, with a loud and painful gag—like sticking fingers down ones throat—fluid splattered at his feet.

He stood abruptly, hand to his mouth and shaking his head. Blood and teeth. So many teeth it had to be all the ones from Matt's mouth. Matt was shaking fiercely, body trembling so badly he teetered from side to side, and as he hunched forward, shirt riding up as his spin snapped, lengthened and angled—Mello _knew_. "Matty…I'm sorry, so fucking sorry." And he backed away. He had messed up, had done this, had _forgotten _about the curse.

Matt turned his head, neck popping and snapping at an odd angle as his body curved, changed and morphed. His eyes were reddening and so wide and fearful that Mello could literally feel his heart shattering within his chest. Matt was paying the price for loving him. It mattered not how strong the love was, how pure, it would always become tainted. Then the infected would turn into a beast and devour the one they loved most. He knew, and should have never forgotten.

Matt let out a moan that was more of a quiet howl as he shuddered and his skin sloughed off in long strips and fur grew out in place. "I wish you didn't love me," Mello choked out. He turned from the half man half beast, and ran. He needed to get to his families estate on the other side of the graveyard. There was protection to be found there, and if he were lucky…he would not have to be the one to put Matt down.

He swiped at tears that blurred his vision and stumbled almost drunkenly through the unlocked gates that guarded the cemetery. There was a loud shrill howl that sent ice into his veins; Matt was fully changed. The ache in his heart did not prevent him from slamming the gates closed in hopes that it would buy him a small amount of time. The only comfort he could gain from this was that there would be no child from their coupling, nothing to pass on the curse from his side.

Mello hurried across the hallowed ground, boots scraping against the autumn foliage that had begun dropping from the old oak trees that littered the grave site like dandelions. He weaved around mausoleums and the large angelic statues that guarded special graves of those wealthy enough to afford them. He knew the way to the estate well, so well he could make it even if the moon was not shining brightly through the overcast sky as it was.

He took his eyes from the moon and turned the corner. A powerful clawed arm knocked him back into a set of old crumbling headstones that collapsed under his weight. Chalk like dust rose from the mess and clouded his vision. Sticky blood seeped down the side of his face as he looked up; he sucked in a breath as his eyes fixated on the beast that stood on bloodied, still transforming feet. The toes cracked and shredded in front of him, nails splitting off as large claws took their place. A gleaming pair of half green eyes bore back at him as a chest rattling snarl was let loose.

Mello was on his feet and running before his mind had even processed the thought. He had to get away. He was only a couple hundred yards from the west end of the estate and there was always someone on the watch after what happened to his grandfather all those years before.

His chest burned from gulping in the frigid night air and yet he felt as though he were not fast enough, not nearly by half. He saw things from the corner of his eyes, flinched at every shadow cast over him.

He felt the wind whoosh around him before he was tackled to the ground, it came only seconds before and was no use as a warning other than to strike fear into him. He rolled, trying to get away but the furred body that loomed over him put a stop to it near instantly with a snout shoved close to his face and a snarl that revealed the rows of new canines.

It leaned farther down, pinning him to the ground easily with just the slight weight of its body. Mello struggled with the weight on his chest, breaths coming in gulps and gasps—heart hammering away like a taiko drum ready to burst free.

Those half green eyes stared at him through the massive exterior and he couldn't even scream as those large claws suddenly scratched at his chest. Skin and blood soaked the massive paws and as Mello's vision began to fade he felt the cold nose of the beasts snout dig into his chest, pushing his ribs apart to get to his heart.

With growl, the heart was ripped out and devoured. It was not chewed, not shredded, but swallowed whole. And with that, the red in the beasts eyes faded away and the anger—the urge to kill—vanished.

The beast sniffed the cavity of Mello's chest and whined a little, nudging the body to make to move. And when nothing happened, the ears flattened against its skull a little. The beast crawled up to the bloodied face and sniffed._ It _was dead.

Looking to the sky the beast let loose a long mournful howl, crying out its pain for the world to hear. When only the echo of its voice was left ringing, the beast slunk off across the frozen ground, alone.

-End...-

**AN:** I know I've written a similar themed thing called The Hunger already….. but this is a bit different. I feel that the song would be from Matt's pov, despite most of the story not being, and it REALLY called to me and I like NEEDED to write something to it.


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